Pronged
by theCalliope
Summary: S/U. Features strange Vulcan anatomy. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: Contains smut, humour and strange Vulcan anatomy. You have been warned.**

I

"Cadet!" he scolds, as she lowers herself to her knees and positions her head between his legs.

She doesn't listen.

"Did you not say that you were stressed out, and did you not say that you loved me?" she whispers, mocking his tone.

He can't deny either accusation. He sighs, and looks sharply at at table as if to indicate that later, he'll have her screaming on it. She unbuttons his pants, feasting her eyes and smiling in silent victory.

She engulfs him, and he throws his head back slightly. He's oblivious to the world, and almost there, when she spits him out screaming,

"What is that!?"

He looks at her in surprise.

"What is what?" he groans with a touch of anger, wishing she hadn't stopped so abruptly.

She stands up and points between his legs. Looking down, he gives her a disdainful glare.

"That," he says, "Is a prong," as if it is utterly obvious.

She looks at him.

"You mean you have a prong on your ... "

"Yes."

"Isn't that a bit--"

He cuts her off.

"Can we discuss this later?" he asks a bit urgently, indicating between his legs.

She looks fazed, but kneels down and starts licking, albeit carefully.

II

"Can't you just get it surgically removed?" she asks, pacing around his quarters.

"No," he snaps indignantly.

"Why not?" she wants to know.

"Do you not think that asking your boyfriend to have a piece of his penis surgically removed is a bit ... unreasonable?"

She thinks about this.

"It just seems dangerous, that's all"

"Vulcan women happen to enjoy being pronged," he says defensively, "And I believe you have the same slang here on Earth."

"Spock!" she snaps, "That's an expression. They don't have actual prongs."

III

In school, the boys were prong-obsessed. After their first Pon Farr, they were all talking about whose was bigger or sharper or longer. And the screams. Everyone was bragging about how loud their girl had screamed.

But Spock hadn't had sex yet. On the day that all his peers had awoken filled with madness, Spock had found T'Pring and taken her to a hilltop.

"Are we going to mate?" she asked him eagerly, as if it was the latest trend.

This posed a problem for Spock.

"I do not actually know you," he told her slowly.

"Why does that matter?" she asked.

It did to Spock.

"I just think we should get acquainted first."

She didn't like this, but she followed him. As they looked out over the city, he put his arms around her and, starting at her ear, began to kiss down her cheek.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, pulling away.

He had been hoping for more obedience from a future wife.

"It's a human mating behaviour," he tried to explain, "Scientists believe that it allows one to judge the suitability of a mate by getting their scent."

"But you know I am suitable because your parents said so," she said, sounding confused, and then added, "Does this mean we are going to mate?"

"I am not sure yet," Spock replied much to her chagrin.

"Is it not pleasant," he asked, "To hold each other, and look out at the city?"

"I am familiar with the appearance of the city," she answered.

He never did sleep with her.

IV

Uhura was wearing a short skirt, high heels and a halter top. And she was drunk. Drunk enough to lean on the wall for support as he entered the code for his quarters.

As soon as they were in, she started kissing him. Touching him. Running her hands across his pants.

A few years before, Spock would have stopped her. But that was a few years before. At age twenty-six, Spock was beginning to think that life was just a series of things you never thought you'd do, if you'd been asked whether you thought you'd do them a few years earlier.

And she was begging for it. He pulled her clothes off and carried her to his bed. When he lay he down, she writhed against him. She kissed him ravenously. She moaned when he touched her.

He thought he saw a faint look of concern in her eyes when she saw him take off his pants.

"I will be careful," he whispered, and she seemed assuaged.

She gasped as he entered, and yelled out as he pounded harder and harder. He could feel her pleasure in her grasp, her breath, the way she twitched, just slightly, every time he bore down. And his own pleasure was mounting. He allowed himself a single, astonished breath, as she began to scream and convulse.

A wave of ecstasy poured over him, and he lost control. He began to growl and snarl and snap. The fact that beneath him, the screams of pleasure had changed to screams of terror subtly registered. And what did was that he found them pleasing. Appealing. Proof of his manhood. He yelled wantonly as he emptied himself and pulled out, leaving one last rip.

"I am never doing that again!" she spat angrily, as soon as she was capable of speech.

He just looked at her.

"Did you not say you loved me?"

************************************************************

_A/N: Written for the following LJ prompt:_

_"So, when I was a kid, I went to the zoo, and learnt that some big cats (lions, I think) have a prong on their penis, which rips the lioness's vagina during sex, causing her to release an egg (I will never ask why the lioness is screaming so loud again)._

So, I was thinking, what if Spock has such a prong, because Vulcans are decended from felines, after all?

S/U if possible, they're my favourite pairing"


	2. Part II: The Revenge

_Thanks to LadyFangs for giving me the idea for this chapter in a review :) Same warning as before_

I

She remembers how, in a fit of teenage curiosity, she had typed "How do gay men have sex?" and gotten millions of results. Now, she types in "How do humans and Vulcans have sex" and gets nothing. Or well, a few syntactic anomalies: "Humans and Vulcans have sex by one partner putting his penis in the other's vagina," but nothing remotely detailed or helpful.

And nothing about prongs.

She takes to reading books on Vulcan anatomy at the library. They describe prongs in a very formal, scientific way. She keeps reading until the librarian comments, and she makes up some story about studying hands for a Vulcan Sign Language project.

She doesn't return again.

II

She and Spock return to the oral forms of pleasure, and she makes the unfortunate realization that he really likes his prong. When it emerges, she licks its length and pierces her tongue slightly, and when she does, he opens his eyes, and a crazed look, almost a grin appears in his face.

In the lab, she holds a pen in her mouth, accidentally cuts herself and thinks of him. She is disturbed by how quickly the taste of blood has become arousing.

One day, she isn't careful enough, and the prong goes tearing through her lip. He pulls her up into his lap and pushes her hand between his legs. Then, he leans her back and admires his handiwork. He kisses her slowly, lapping at the blood.

"You like that, don't you?" she asks, but he doesn't need to answer. She can see how much he likes it in his eyes. She can feel how much he likes it in her hand. As he comes, he makes a low growl that echoes through the room like a ricochet.

III

Temptation is a problem. Memory is a problem. The farther away it gets, the less she can remember it hurting. The more she tries to convince herself that sober, she could control him. But then she peels away her skirts and sees the scars. The scars always bring her to her senses.

At a family gathering, Nyota and Amanda are making cookies. The men are in another room. She likes to pretend that they are watching sports, but knows they're probably playing chess or debating philosophy.

"Amanda," she asks suddenly, "I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

"Of course, dear."

She closes both sliding doors to the kitchen.

"I was wondering what you know about prongs."

She looks up nervously at Amanda, who is still cutting cookies.

"What do you mean by prongs, dear?"

Embarrassed, she walks over to Amanda and indicates between her legs, and says in a harsh whisper,

"You know, prongs."

Amanda wracks her brain.

"Oh!" she exclaims finally, "Prongs!"

"Not very much," she adds, "It's only every seven years."

Nyota looks at her funny.

"What do you do in the mean time?" she asks.

Amanda blushes a bit pink.

"Well ... you see, Sarek, he has this most excellent strap-on ..."

"Somehow, I don't think I would be able to convince Spock to ..." Nyota replies staring at the floor, and wondering if that would even work with a guy that could get it up.

"And Sarek thought he would never convince me to play chess with him every night either. You'd be amazed at the number of compromises you can make in a relationship."

Nyota tries not to think about this too much.

"But how do you even know about prongs in the first place?" Amanda asks, looking worried, "Spock hasn't had a Pon Farr yet, has he? He would have told me."

Nyota doubts this, but doesn't answer.

"It's more that he wants to try a bit ... you know, recreationally," she says finally, still having trouble looking her in the eye.

"You're not letting him, are you?!" she snaps with a touch of horror, and Nyota's not sure whether it's because it's her son or because of the prongs.

"That must really hurt," Amanda clarifies, "I mean it's one thing if he's about to kill you, but on a regular basis, that's a whole other matter."

She looks a bit ashamed at her outburst and starts back at making cookies.

"Make sure you douche with iodine," she adds after a minute, "You can get a really nasty infection."

IV

She knows she's not going to be able to convince him, so she feeds him Hershey's kisses and tells him they're coffee cakes. She think he knows what she's doing, because usually he's strange about food, taking small bites and cutting it into pieces, but today he eats everything she feeds him.

Soon, he's feeling woozy and asking (almost too conveniently) to lie down. He does, with a heavy sound.

"What are you doing?" he asks as she grabs on to an arm and he hears a rustle.

"Nothing," she says, and it takes him a minute to turn his head up and investigate. By then, she's got both of his hands tied to the headboard. The legs are a bit more trouble, but he's weak and confused an in the end she gets them.

As she unbuttons his shirt and pulls down his pants, he gives her an unsteady look that had a touch of worry, a touch of fear. And she knows what he's thinking. That in his mind, it's always him on top. That it isn't supposed to be like this.

She rakes his chest with her nails, mostly because she can, and then rubs him until he's hard. He resists, closing his eyes and shifting in an attempt to get away, but in the end she succeeds. He looks so embarrassed to see himself in full bloom, beneath her.

"Do you know how many days I bled?" she whispers in his ear, unforgivingly, and then bites through the ear on a whim. He jolts a bit, but then turns to her for a kiss, and she indulges him.

"Here are the rules," she whispers, moving one hand back to touch him, "There will be no prongs."

"If there are any," she adds, lapping at his bleeding ear, "I will get up and do something else until they go away. This goes on until I'm satisfied, okay?"

She asks, but it isn't really a question. The response he gives is a raised eyebrow, full of disdain.

As she mounts him, she laughs. A little at the situation, but mostly at his expression, half eager and half afraid.


	3. Chapter 3

I

I do not believe this is working as you intended," Spock says with frustration. The chocolate is starting to wear off, and he finds the restraints demeaning.

She has come close to climax many times, but every time the prong emerges just before she gets there.

"I think you're doing it on purpose," she replies from across the room. She is sitting naked in a chair and trying to solve a Rubik's cube.

Spock glares at her and hisses,

"I have made you aware more than once that it is involuntary."

She gives the cube a few more twists. Spock knows they're incorrect, but doesn't tell her.

"Sure, it might be involuntary," she says, walking towards him, her breasts swaying. He has to brace himself to keep from becoming too aroused.

"But you can either think about me, or you can think about vector calculus."

"Is that what you want?" he asks, "A boyfriend who thinks about nothing in bed but vector calculus?"

She thinks about this for a minute, and then walks up to the bed and runs her arms across him. The prong emerges immediately. She gives an angry huff and stomps back to her chair.

In a sudden bust of logic, he realizes that he's no longer intoxicated and tears the restraints. She turns around quickly and looks like a deer in the headlights. He walks towards her with slow, purposeful movements, enjoying it.

"I am tired of this game," he says, almost gleeful, before he grabs her.

A semblance of control remains, so he makes her scream the way she likes before he makes her scream the way he likes.

"You thoroughly deserved that," he says to her horrified glare.

II

Regret sets in, and Spock realizes he has a problem. A severe problem, he corrects himself, as he knows it's not the sort of think he can look up or ask a trusted advisor. Then, it occurs to him that there is someone who might help.

"Father," he says to the Comm. screen, "Remember how you stated that I could ask you any questions I had about Pon Farr?"

The conversation he is referring to occurred twelve years ago, and 'Pon Farr' is inaccurate, but the only word in the Vulcan language for the sexual act. Spock is unsure of how else to start the conversation.

"I have perfect recall," his father responds, clearly miffed.

"I was wondering ..." he begins, and then realizes that he hasn't really thought of how to verbalize his problem. He suddenly feels embarrassed.

"I have been having difficulties ... I mean, lately, Nyota and I have been trying to—"

His father interrupts him.

"This is not a question about Pon Farr then, this is question about 'sex'."

Spock knows it's strange at age twenty-six, but he is enormously relieved that his father has heard of sex.

"How do you have 'sex' with Mother?" he asks, without really thinking.

"I use something called a 'strap-on dildo'," his father replies without hesitation, enunciating the words loudly in standard, "It is a replica human penis that can be attached to one's body."

Spock looks at him with a mixture of surprise and horror.

"Why ... how ..." he sputters.

"To satisfy your mother," Sarek states.

Spock knows that much. He tries to picture doing it to Nyota.

"I ... foresee mechanical difficulties," he says finally, "How do you keep your real penis away?"

"I keep my underpants on," Sarek replies, almost proudly.

It occurs to Spock that his father thinks he is calling about what humans call 'performance problems'. It also occurs to him that this means his father won't have the answer.

"You should go the the _San Francisco Sex Shop_ and explain your needs," Sarek continues, "I got here every time I visit Earth. Their staff is very helpful."

Spock tries to say something, but is cut off.

"It is also important that you realize that the type of human that is interested in a Vulcan is likely somewhat abnormal in her sexual desires, so be sure to ask if there are any additional items she would enjoy. I bought your mother some clamps the last time I patronized the store."

Spock realizes that this is an excellent time to think about vector calculus.

"You should also be aware that women often enjoy activities other than intercourse. For example, your mother likes being penetrated anally, and once on her birthday, I had my colleague—"

It is un-Vulcan to lie, so Spock makes a vague statement.

"There may be someone at my door."

Then he turns the Comm. screen off.

III

"Let me get this straight," Dr. McCoy says with a tone of disbelief, "You have a prong on your penis, and you have come to inquire about getting it removed so that you can have sex more easily with humans."

"That is correct," Spock replies mildly.

Dr. McCoy looks at him.

"You are surprised," Spock surmises.

"I admit ... it is not something I get asked every day."

"Is it possible?" Spock pushes, not quite sure what he wants the answer to be.

The doctor looks at him uncomfortably and finally asks,

"Can I see it?"

"I am afraid that it only emerges when I am very aroused, and it would be improper to become so aroused in your presence," Spock states in monotone.

"I'm glad we've got that straight," the doctor snaps, looking a little bit relieved.

"Perhaps I could take an x-ray," he continues, "... but that could cause genetic mutations in your offspring ... or I could draw a tube through it to do radio imaging ... or fasten it to a table for half an hour to do an MRI ... or maybe exploratory surgery would be the best option ..."

The doctor looks up into the air thoughtfully.

"I apologize, I believe I need more time to consider this procedure," Spock snaps before walking off quickly.

IV

"He says it's not possible," Nyota confirms, looking him in the eye.

"He is not sure," Spock corrects.

"If I did not have a prong," he asks, "Would you be more inclined to sleep with me?"

She shrugs her shoulders,

"When I feel like it."


	4. Chapter 4

I

"I think you're trying to soften me up," she whispers.

She's spread across the bed and his oiled hands are gliding across her shoulders.

"I am not sure I follow," he replies. He digs his hands in deeper and she shudders.

"I think you're just being nice to try and convince me to ..."

"You suspect that my having a bubble bath with you and then giving you an oil massage might be motivated by a desire to engage in sexual activities," he interjects casually.

"Yes," she answers.

He looks at her with a mixture of concern and fascination.

"While I understand that your logical capabilities are inferior to mine, I am surprised to learn that you did not reach that conclusion initially. May I ask what alternative theories you were considering?"

She gives him an irritated, conceding glare.

"You like it," he whispers into her ear, touching his chest to her back. She can feel that he's hard against her.

"No, I don't," she wails.

He looks at her dismissively before going in a few centimetres.

"Stop that!," she snaps after a minute. He withdraws with half a shrug and continues at her shoulders. He kisses her down the side of her face, and then shifts up until he's pressed against her rear. She tenses immediately,

"No," she screams, "What the hell do you think you're doing? There is no fucking way ..."

Enraged she turns to look at him, but stops when she sees his demure, almost amused expression.

"That on the other hand," he muses with an air of self-satisfaction, "Is a level of enthusiasm I find compelling."

She doesn't complain when he goes back into her the right way. It's a few minutes before she regrets it.

II

"Don't worry," Dr. McCoy reassures her, "I see like fifty vaginas a week."

She knows it's true, but she still wishes she had been assigned a doctor she didn't know for her annual physical.

"I'll go outside while you change," he continues, "And the nurse will help you cover up before I come back in. I'll hardly see anything."

She thinks she might be able to get through this without major embarrassment until the nurse says,

"Doctor, you need to have a look at this."

He rushes back in. Touching a scar on her thigh with a gloved hand, he asks,

"Cadet, how did you get this?"

At first, she's just embarassed, but then her mind reels. Spock isn't supposed to be involved with a student. She tenses up, hoping the doctor doesn't make the connection.

Hoping he sees like fifty pronged penises a week.

"I had a bit of an accident," she tries.

"More than once, seeing that some of these cuts are better healed than others," he replies doubtfully.

She ties to hide her fear and mortification.

"Do I have to tell you?" she asks.

"No," he says, "But I have to admit I'm immensely curious. I've never seen anything like this. I mean once I got a pair of knife fetishists ... had to give the girl two units of blood and reattach the guy's you know ... but what you've got's too jagged for that ... and then there was the girl liked to pour in plaster, but those were more like burns than cuts ..."

Dr. McCoy looked mired by scientific curiosity,

"Was it something like that?"

She resists the urge to scream out a denial.

"Sure," she mumbles, looking down, "A combination of both."

Dr. McCoy looks disappointed,

"You're not going to tell me the truth, are you?"

III

"No!," she yells, pushing Spock away, "We did it last week. And I swear it, made you pushier."

He loosens his grip slightly.

"Don't give me that look!," she continues, not bothering to see whether it's the sad 'you don't want me' look or the condescending 'you know you want me' look or the blank 'your eventual consent is inevitable' look.

He backs off and starts kissing her gently. His hands move to caress her thighs and he begins to trace where a scar used to be. He breaks off contact and accuses,

"You let him remove them."

She's about to brush it off when she looks at him, and to her astonishment, he looks sad. Not anything that a stranger would notice, but a definite lowering of the eyes and beginning of a frown. It's certainly the most visibly upset she's ever seen him.

"I had to let him," she says, fighting the urge to laugh.

"I thought ...," he whispers, "I thought I meant something to you."

She can't decide whether to be amused or touched by his outburst.

You can make new ones, she almost says, but stops herself.

"For heaven's sake!" she exclaims, "I told Dr. McCoy that I enjoy filling myself up with plaster using a steak knife to protect you."

He glares at her, unconvinced.

"And I'm sentimental about other things," she goes on, "I mean I still have the first flowers you gave me pressed in a dictionary somewhere ..."

He looked mollified, but only slightly so.

IV

Nyota realizes that Dr. McCoy must have been telling the truth about the fifty vaginas a week thing, because the next time she sees him, the awkwardness doesn't even last thirty seconds. She sits next to him in class like usual. All goes well until partway through the class, he starts looking at Spock, who's teaching, and then looking at her, repeatedly. She pulls him aside after class.

"Please don't tell," she implores.

"I can imagine the hearing," he jokes, "When they ask me how I know. I think you're pretty safe on that one."

He winks and she smiles at him gratefully.

"Is there anything you can do?" she asks after a minute, "I know he went and talked to you."

"What you have to realize," he replies, "Is that if I did cosmetic penis surgery, I wouldn't be working for room and board and pretending I do it for the good of the universe."


	5. Chapter 5 Two Flies in the Lantern

I

He was only introduced to the expression a few days ago, but Spock suspects that Nyota is trying to soften him up. When he gets back to his quarters, she has his favourite dinner on the table and lets him talk about his engine coolant research for eight minutes, thirty seconds longer than usual. When she asks him about his level of statistical certainty in his results, his curiosity piques.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"Nothing," she replies, "I was just wondering whether you've determined—"

He shushes her with his hand.

"Your behaviour is unusual."

She sighs and lowers her head.

"Dr. McCoy gave me a name," she admits finally.

"A name?" he asks.

"Of a surgeon who might be able to help you," she speaks quickly, "He says he's referred a few admirals who are unhappy with the size of their ... forward contingent."

Spock raises an eyebrow.

"Nyota," he says quietly, "I have been contemplating this possibility, and I am concerned that I might not be able to enjoy—"

"Not enjoy sex?" she snaps, "I wonder what that might be like!"

She stomps around the table and stands in front of him.

"You seem to enjoy it enough before the bleeding part," he muses, "and you certainly are attracted to me."

"Like a fly to a lantern," she sputters, looking infuriated before leaning forward to stroke his ears.

He decides he's right. She's definitely trying to soften him up.

II

Spock had once heard an old human joke about a circumcision doctor who put clocks in his window for lack of a better alternative. Upon arriving, though, he realizes it doesn't translate very well into the twenty-third century. This doctor's window has the words "PENIS EXTENSION" in large letters with a picture of a man happily holding the front of his pants. Spock pauses slightly before walking in.

He worries that the office might be full of pictures of genitalia or something, but he's relieved to see that it looks like any other doctor's office. Except for the fact that the waiting room is full of nothing but sketchy-looking young men.

The receptionist looks at him in surprise and he realizes that he looks very different, having dressed in robes in order to look like an average, nondescript Vulcan.

"I was referred," he tries to explain, "I have an ... issue that needs to be rectified."

Thankfully, she accepts this and tells him to take a seat.

Spock tries to read a magazine, but he slowly become aware that everyone in the office is staring at him.

"Ears," he says finally, "Too pointy."

III

The doctor is old and grandfatherly. Spock isn't sure whether this makes him more or less comfortable.

"So, Mr. Spock," he says, not giving him a second glance, "What can I do for you today?"

Spock pauses. He still hasn't found an effective way to articulate his problem.

"I have an ... irregular penis that I am considering getting surgically rectified," he admits finally.

"Perceived penile inadequacy ..." the doctor murmurs, checking off a box on his PADD, "Are you considering extension?"

"I am satisfied with the length of my penis," Spock replies quickly.

The doctor doesn't seem to have a box for that.

"Well, we also do color correction, implants --" he continues after a minute

"What do you implant?" Spock cuts him off, seized by curiosity.

"Whatever you want," the doctor says, "Usually, we do inflatable chambers, but we've also done frictional beads and even rods of stainless steel. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Spock shakes his head.

"Scrotal reshaping is also popular, as is bend removal—"

"Do you do prong removal?" the Spock asks suddenly.

The doctor looks at him, suprised.

"It is a Vulcan trait," Spock continues before the doctor surmises that this is his second trip to the penis surgeon. He sees the doctor check off 'other'.

"I don't have any information on Vulcans," the doctor says finally, "But I might see if there is any Romulan data ..."

"I was not aware that the Romulans were sharing technology," Spock snaps, sure he must have misheard.

"Not usually," the doctor responds, "But they really wanted to get their hands on our breast enlargement methods, so it was a fair trade."

Spock's mind reels.

"Don't worry," the doctor continues, "Love, acceptance, longer penises. Deep down, we all want the same things."

IV

Spock walks away with several volumes of Romulan penis surgery records, a bounty he'd never imagined existed. As soon as he gets home, he loads it onto the computer and searches for prongs. At first, there's just the obvious. _Prongs develop during puberty. Prongs are made of a tooth-like enamel. _But then, Spock sees an article entitled "Prong Loss."

_Prong loss,_ it says_, is a common side effect of vigorous sexual activity. It is the most common penis injury, with the average man losing 3.4 prongs in his lifetime. No treatment, other than sterilization of the affected area is advisable. Prong removal prior to penis surgery is recommended so that prong re-growth can be used as an indicator of healing progress. _

Next to the article is a picture of a penis with a detached prong. Teeth marks leave no doubt as to how it got that way.

Spock's first thought is that the picture is horrifying. His second thought is that the picture is arousing.


	6. Chapter 6

I

Looking up old friends from high school is Nyota's guilty pleasure. She likes to surmise whether or not they are more successful than she is. She is looking at the web page for Trudie Carwinkle's new counselling practice to see how big it is and whether it contains any palm trees when she sees the banner: INTERSPECIES RELATIONSHIPS. She pauses for a moment before clicking.

She thinks quickly. Trudie has never been a great friend, but Nyota remembers doing a few school projects together. She wonders if this is enough to merit a favour in adulthood. Looking at the rates, she hopes so. It's the type of money that would buy a lot of palm trees.

After five minutes of deep breathing, she turns on the Comm.

"Carwinkle Counselling," an assistant answers.

"Hi," she breaths, "I was wondering if I could make an appointment."

"Have you been here before?" the assistant asks.

"No," she stumbles, "I mean ... I can't actually afford to go here ... but I knew Trudie in high school and I was hoping I might be able to see her anyways ..."

The assistant makes a noise.

"What do you want to see Trudie about?" she asks finally.

"An interspecies relationship," Nyota replies quickly.

"And what sort of problems are you having?"

"Sexual" Nyota snaps.

"I'll have to go check," the assistant responds, walking off.

Over the Comm, Nyota listens to the muffled chatter. Twice, she can make out her name, and then the phrase 'is having trouble screwing aliens'. It's followed by wild laughter.

The assistant walks back to the Comm and sits down.

"Sure," she chirps, "Trudie says to come in any time."

II

Nyota's heard that the years can change people, but they haven't changed Trudie at all. She still has frizzy hair, she still wears thick glasses and she still likes utility belts.

"Hi Nini," she says.

Nyota had forgotten her propensity for making up annoying nicknames.

"Hi," she says, "How's it going?"

"Great!" Trudie replies, "I graduated college a few years back, and I've just managed to get this business going. But unfortunately, I'm too busy fixing other people's marriages to get married myself."

Trudie throws her head back and laughs at her own joke while snorting. Nyota realizes that she's also forgotten how annoying this was.

"But what's your trouble?" she asks, "I heard it was something interspecies related."

Nyota thinks of how to phrase it and is suddenly too embarrassed to speak.

"It's kind of a strange problem," she gets out finally.

"Don't worry," Trudie prompts, "In my profession, chances are I get stranger things free in my breakfast cereal."

Nyota thinks this over.

"You see ... I'm dating this Vulcan ..."

"Are you worried about Pon Farr?" Trudie asks.

Nyota moves to shake her head, but then freezes.

"It is very common for humans in relationships for Vulcans to feel anxiety relating to Pon Farr," Trudie continues, "Do you have a blank PADD?"

Nyota fumbles through her backpack and finds one. Trudie touches it to her computer and hands it back. The screen now displays the title "Protecting Yourself During Pon Farr" above a picture of a woman smiling and brandishing handcuffs. A dangerous-looking Vulcan is coming towards her from the background.

"This pamphlet contains a lot of practical advice on dealing with the behavioural changes that occur during Pon Farr."

Nyota looks nervously at the picture.

"I'm not actually worried about Pon Farr ... yet," she breaths, "It's more about the meantime."

"Well, I can't tell you what to do," Trudie starts, "But I can tell you that the couples I've seen enjoy oral sex, playing with toys and abstinence."

Nyota nods.

"Also, you have to realize that just because he can't perform doesn't mean he doesn't love you. In fact, many Vulcan men in interspecies relationships feel inadequate because— "

"He can perform," Nyota interrupts quietly but solidly, "He's only half Vulcan."

Trudie looks at her and asks,

"What's your problem then?"

Nyota inhales deeply,

"He has a large, sharp prong at the end of his penis."

Trudie stares at her. Her expression is a mix of surprise, horror and amusement.

"Trudie," Nyota wavers after a minute, "Aren't you supposed to say you eat stranger things for breakfast?"

III

"You could try 'I feel' statements," Trudie muses, "It's where you say an action, and how it makes you feel, and how it can be rectified."

Nyota looks at her questioningly.

"For example, you could say, 'When you have sex with me, I feel afraid because you have a prong on your penis. I would prefer if you were to not have sex with me'."

Nyota gives her an exasperated glare,

"What do I do when he throws the same thing back at me?"

Suddenly, Trudie starts laughing. She laughs for almost a minute before Nyota stops her.

"What's so funny?" she asks.

"It's ... it's just that in high school you were so prissy. How did you ever get yourself into this situation? I mean, once you got up in sex-ed class and said that you didn't know why they were teaching us about birth control because we all should be focusing on our studies anyways."

Nyota thinks she might recall having said something like that at some point.

"I really did believe it," she defends herself, "I was with Sp-my partner for almost two years before I tried anything."

She recalls how not too long ago, she had tired of I-can-control-myself love and gone for I-can't-control-myself love.

"And then what happened?" Trudie asks, resuming her therapist tone.

"We were kissing ... and he seemed turned on, so I thought that maybe we could try ... and then I spat him out screaming ..."

"And then what?" Trudie prods.

"I asked him to get it removed."

Trudie stares pointedly at her PADD,

"You didn't, say, apologize."

Nyota looks down abashedly.

IV

It takes two trains and one transport to get back to the academy, and by then, she's feeling terrible. She bursts into his quarters and finds him seated, wearing robes, with three pictures of prong injuries projected on the wall in front of him.

"What are those?" she wavers, and he swivels to look at her.

"Romulan penis data," he replies, "From the surgeon."

She ignores the half dozen questions that appear in her mind.

"Oh, Spock," she whispers.

She sits in his lap and he's hard, but she doesn't worry about it.

"I've always wondered whether Vulcans wear underwear under their robes," she purrs.

"Yes," he states, "At all times. Multiple layers."

She glares at him with annoyance, but then moves to verify this statement, and soon, she's across the bed, clawing at his robes to expose his chest. He looks confused, but not enough to protest.

With her to guide him, he's surprisingly gentle and it takes a long while for the clothes to come off.

"Nyota," he whispers as he pulls himself on top of her.

"I love you too," she breaths back, and then he's inside her.

She holds onto him and then moans and then braces herself through the pain. When he's done, he moves her gently on top of him. He puts her cheek against his and places her arms around his neck. She feels his breath on her cheek and it's almost beautiful.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Warning: This chapter is more graphic than usual, so if you've been on the edge of offendedness, you might want to stop reading now_**

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I

Spock awakes next to Nyota. It's a minute before he remembers how he got there. He pulls Nyota closer and peels back the covers. There are fresh cuts on her thighs. He traces his fingers across them lovingly.

She opens her eyes and smiles at him until she tries to move, and then exclaims,

"Spock, what did you do to me!"

She makes small whinging noises as she props herself up. She gives Spock a scathing look, and he quickly removes his hands from her thighs.

"You were more than willing," he replies defensively.

She closes her eyes.

"I know," she declares darkly, "That is the last time I take advice from someone who doesn't have a prong in their pussy!"

Spock suspects that this includes almost everyone, but doesn't argue.

Nyota tries to walk around the room, but she limps quite badly. Spock sits up and admires her.

"Stop looking at me like that!" she yells.

"Looking at you how?" he asks.

She teeters a bit more and gives him an accusatory glare,

"I can tell you're enjoying this."

She stumbles while taking a large step, and Spock runs forward and pulls her into a chair.

"I will borrow some supplies to repair the damage from McCoy," he explains as he walks out the door, "Lately, he has been disinclined to ask questions."

II

Dr. McCoy isn't on duty, and Spock finds himself face-to-face with another cadet. She's blonde and she wears pigtails and she doesn't even look twenty.

"I need to borrow some medical supplies for my cadet class," Spock states quickly.

It isn't exactly a lie.

"Dermal regenerator?" the girl guesses.

"Mucous membrane regenerator," Spock corrects.

She gives him a strange look.

"I have a cadet with an unfortunate habit of putting dangerous things in her mouth," he tries to explain.

This isn't quite a lie either.

The cadet doesn't have any issues giving him antiseptic, but that leaves one last item.

"Also, I need a speculum," he states.

The cadet looks at him wide-eyed.

"By a speculum, you mean an instrument used to examine the vagina?" she asks, just to be sure.

"I need it for an unrelated classroom demonstration," Spock invents wildly.

The cadet gapes at him, as if she is going to be very careful about what classes she signs up for in the future.

Walking down the halls, Spock realizes that he should have brought a bag with him, as people keep staring at the unusual combination of instruments he is carrying. In the elevator, every face is turned towards him when he has a burst of inspiration.

"After last night," he says in monotone, "I need to repair my girlfriend."

Everybody laughs. No one believes him.

He walks out of the building feeling rather self-satisfied.

III

Spock is busy marking, but he wants to look at the pictures. All day, he's been thinking about them. Giving in, he pulls out the PADD. He slowly flips through three pictures of prong injuries.

Spock goes to sleep and he dreams of a nameless, faceless sex partner. Twice, she's let him tear her up, but this time, she refuses. He pulls her by the waist and she resists.

During one pull, she catches him off-balance. He falls on his back, and on all fours, she hovers over him. She looks vicious, and for a minute he's afraid, but then she falls back, docile, and takes him in her mouth.

The pleasure's mounting, and he's about to gush into her mouth when the prong comes out. She licks the tip, and he realizes, too late, what she's planning. He tries to move away, but she already has it between her teeth and she gives sharp yank.

There's a moment of incredible plain which fades to a throb and gives way to anger and frustration. He sees her above him, and he still wants her. He stands up and throws her to the ground mercilesslessly, shoving inside before she can even get a scream out.

When Spock wakes up, the sheets are damp and he's shivering. He grabs his pillow and rolls over, trying to clear his mind.

He wants to look at the pictures again.

IV

"You want me to pull out your prong with my teeth?!" Nyota shrieks, as if she might have misheard.

"Your jaw is probably not strong enough," Spock corrects calmly, "You will likely need to use your hands."

Nyota glares at him, irritated.

"But ..." she gasps, trying to articulate her concern, "Isn't that kind of ... you know ... kinky."

"The average Romulan does it 3.4 times," he recites, as if it would make her feel better.

"But what if I do it wrong?" she protests, "And what if you start to miss your prong?"

"It will grow back," Spock states demurely.

She looks at him.

"What!?" she snaps.

"Maybe they're like eyebrows," she muses after a minute, "And they grow back finer each time."

"Or perhaps they are like grey hairs," Spock counters, "And if you pull one out, two grow back in its place."

Nyota looks horrified by the thought.

"I guess," she says finally, "I guess I might be willing to try it. But you're lucky," she adds loudly, "That I was sliced open by a prong a couple of days ago."

Spock thinks that he could arrange for this any day of the week.

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**_Thanks to Spockchick for giving me the eyebrow idea in a review :)_**


	8. Chapter 8 Conclusion

I

"I don't know," Nyota protests, "It seems to be rooted rather deeply in there."

Spock's naked and in a chair and has just growled through his teeth for her to pull on it.

"Please try," he breathes heavily, panting.

Nyota considers looking for a pair of pliers.

She continues stroking and in a moment of courage, grabs the prong and yanks it at hard as she can. But it's to no avail.

He comes all over her.

II

After much research, Nyota has a theory. She's not a physicist or a biologist, but she thinks she might be able to remove the prong by twisting it. This pleases her, but she can't help but think back to a simpler day when she didn't spend so much time researching penises.

After the usual argument, she removes Spock's pants and begins to suck him. When the prong emerges, she continues nervously for a minute before she moves up and give it a sudden twist.

She can hear him gasp as she feels the sinews snap. When she pulls, it comes out easily. She holds it, stunned, between her fingers.

When she'd imagined this, she'd never thought of what she'd do with the prong, but now she knows she wants to keep it. She thinks of all the mementos of various encounters that Gaila keeps. Now she has something weirder.

Breaking her trance, she looks up at Spock and he seems dazed, his eyes half-open. She wonders if he's shocked, in pain, or legitimately injured. Crawling up towards his face, she whispers in his ear,

"Are you alright?"

It takes a minute for him to answer.

"Please," he whimpers, indicating his still-erect penis, "Can you touch it?"

III

Three days later Spock still hasn't come by. She wonders what has happened. Is he embarrassed? In need of time to heal? Dying of genital gangrene?

Oh the fourth day, he walks into her quarters like nothing has happened.

"Spock, where have you been?" she demands.

He doesn't answer. He shoves her up against the wall instead.

"Spock ..." she protests, but there's nothing to protest anymore. It's only a few seconds before he has her skirt up and he's inside her.

He takes her against the wall, on the floor, in the bed. He even takes her up the ass for good measure. He's not talking, but she knows what he's trying to say. He can't hurt her anymore, but god damn it, he's going to try.

Eventually, they're both exhausted and Nyota lies in bed on top of Spock.

"You don't like it as much without the prong, do you?" she accuses.

"I like this too," he responds, but he seems a bit irritated. Defeated.

"Well, I took it," she teases, smiling and kissing him on the cheek.

"It will grow back," he barks defensively.

She grins to cover a bit of a shudder, and then taunts

"You better be careful then."

He growls and she laughs and for the first time it's Nyota-1, Spock-0.

IV

When she sees Dr. McCoy in class, she's still smiling.

"I think we've reached a new stage in our relationship," she can't help but say, pointing to Spock, who's up front teaching.

She likes McCoy, she decides, because he doesn't ask too many questions. He doesn't ask what she means by this. He doesn't ask what happened to his mucous membrane regenerator. And he doesn't ask where she got the white spike attached to what she calls her new 'shark-tooth' necklace.

"The way I see it," he replies finally, "There's three stages to a relationship. The one where you screw all over the place, the one where you screw in bed and the one where you yell 'screw you' when you see each other at the divorce lawyer's."

He looks at Nyota meaningfully,

"And you got to watch out, it's the beginning of the end, when things start to get adversarial."

She doesn't want to disagree, but thinks silently to herself that between her and Spock things will always be adversarial.

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**_A/N: That's it, I'm fresh out of prong-related ideas :) If you haven' t had a chance yet, please review and let me know what you think of think of this story._**


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